


Something's Gone Seriously Wrong

by HelmetParty



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Bottom Jake Park, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, First Kiss, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues, Selfcest, Slow Burn, Weird Plot Shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-05-12 15:04:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19231531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelmetParty/pseuds/HelmetParty
Summary: Jake is wandering in the woods when he meets the least likely companion: himself.In other words: An older Jake teaches younger Jake how to fuck.





	1. First Lesson

“Please, Jake, you're the only one who isn't injured at the moment, and I, well, I just, I just need help.” the French woman turns back to Jane, who's coughing up blood and vomiting her guts out. It had become somewhat of a new rule that you either died to the Plague or you cleansed yourself before returning. The sickness could last for days, even if you slept, even if you were put into another trial. It hadn't been able to spread to anyone else so far (aside from being in a trial), which is probably the only reason Claudette is allowing herself to be covered in the sick bile. (But, let's be honest, even if she  _ could _ catch it, she would still help anyway. She was selfless like that and Jake knew it.) She's surrounded by Dwight, passed out in his own vomit, a bleeding Nea and the fourth member of that particular trial nowhere to be seen. Dead, probably. 

He wasn't necessarily the most altruistic of the group, even going as far to be a little bit cold sometimes, but Claudette was an exception. Even in his generalized disdain for the most of the group he found himself with, he couldn't help but see only good in her. She was the first to sacrifice herself, the first to do whatever was necessary for the people she considered friends - which was all of them. She was clearly introverted and a little anxious but she set that aside when it was needed and worked to be the mother of their growing group of unfortunate souls trapped in this Hell.

She worked tirelessly to save, to heal, to bring just a little light into each and every single one of their worlds. She never asked for anything, so when she did, you could easily tell it was important. Jake didn't care much for morality either, but if he denied her this single favor in the face of the countless times she had looked out for him, it would be the greatest sin.

He nods at her after a few moments. "You can count on me" he mumbles tiredly, displeased with the fact he was about to be sent on a mission instantly after returning from an unfortunate trial with the Clown where in which he was the sole survivor. His legs ached from running and his lungs still burned with whatever he threw at them, wanting nothing more than to simply go away and pass out himself. Claudette is sweaty and a little bit shaky but she musters a soft smile and a "thank you so much, Jake." Venturing in the woods wasn't the  _ worst _ thing he could think about doing, given the case you rarely met face to face with the killers and even then they couldn't hurt you, he still finds himself annoyed. Why couldn't Nea do it? She was only bleeding, not sick. As he walks to the treeline he takes one last glance at her as she tries to fumble together bandages and tape to stop the bleeding on her shoulder, being mostly unable to. He silently curses her out in his head and even though he knows he's being an unreasonable asshole he can't stop. 

He got like that when he was tired.

He saunters into the forest and pulls a flashlight from his jacket pocket. He flips it on and off to no avail, but proceeds to whack it against a tree until it stutters on. Since it was perpetually night visibility was always an issue, typically doable since it was usually at least not pitch black and their eyes had long since adjusted to the hue, but in the deep expanse of the forest it was different. No light reached these places, the only source was  from the moon which seemed to be nothing more than a cheap hologram out here. It did little to illuminate the dark expanse and coupled with the ever-present fog it might as well not even be a factor. 

The batteries on his flashlight clearly were on their last legs, so he uses it sparingly. He keeps his eyes focused on the ground, looking for any type of plants that Claudette had showed him we're the ones they needed. "Nature is sparse" she said once. "It's usually obvious. They don't grow, they just appear." That same sentiment held true for everything else. Flashlights, toolboxes, medkids- they all just  _ appeared _ as if it was from thin air. And while the Entity typically healed them after a death or after a few nights of sleep, it had recently started to slow. People would die and come back still injured, or sleep for what felt like a week and still be sick. It was no longer an option to rely on their mysterious captor; they needed to be proactive and treat all wounds and illnesses as if it was in the real world. Otherwise, they might all just fall prey to it and stop being healed all together.

Even as such, their other supplies were low as well. Anyone who had an item held onto tighter than life itself. Nobody could really afford to lose anything anymore, and God knows what David would do if he lost his precious flashlight.  _ 'Probably stop taunting the killers and live'  _ Jake jokes to himself out loud. He could hear the Brit screaming insults to kingdom fuck now. It was kind of funny but simultaneously annoying. Jake would prefer it if he did a gen, or literally anything else, but hey. The longer he kept the killer occupied the longer he himself lived, so really, it's not all bad.

He wanders around for what feels like ages. He doesn't have the luxury of owning a watch but his internal clock says it's been quite a while. He's occupied with his thoughts and isn't having  _ that _ bad of a time but he figures he should call it quits and head back soon. Well, he hopes he'll head back soon, anyway. Nobody could control how long they stayed in the woods, it was just a repeating and seemingly limited space that sometimes felt massive or miniscule depending on your luck. Some days you couldn't walk five minutes in the woods without reaching the campfire again, other times you couldn't walk for days and find it. Usually he had better luck when he turned tail and headed in the way he came, so that's what he planned to do. 

He takes a few more steps and sighs. He hadn't even found a single thing, not even something useless, which is ultimately how he ends up feeling. Claudette had asked him for one thing and he couldn't even do that. Figures. Luck had been against him for a while, why would it suddenly change now?

He turns to head in the opposite direction when something catches his flashlight. A tiny gleam, just bright enough for him to notice it. Instantly he flicks his attention to it, and once more he catches the sparkle with his flashlight. It's off just a little ways, something on the ground next to a fallen tree. He approaches with a bit of newfound hope, and as he gets closer he recognizes it.

A flashlight. 

Even just by it's looks he can tell it's better than his. It's purple, slim and long, void of scratches as if brand new. 

It was something, and if this was all he could find he would consider that a somewhat comforting plus to the loss he was bringing back. Unassuming, he steps forward to it and bends down to pick it up. 

The moment his fingertips touch it it's suddenly raked backwards, an abrupt crushing of leaves and quick breath filling his ears. Terrified and startled Jake jumps back, his flashlight firmly in his hands, pointing it in the direction of whoever or whatever was out there. He  _ seriously  _ didn't want to deal with meeting a killer right now, especially one that baited him like an idiot. That's just cruel.

Whoever had the other flashlight turned theirs on. It was marginally brighter than his own, and when pointed directly at his face, he can't help but recoil in response. His eyes weren't used to the luminosity and fuck, even just a mere second of he light burned his retinas. 

"Who's there?!"

The voice is deep and a little bit raspy. He doesn't recognize it as friend nor foe, but still. "Stop!" Jake growls, shielding his face from the intense blast of light. "Fucking quit!"

The mystery flashlighter doesn't turn it off, instead he points it away from his eyes. Jake takes the opportunity to do the same to the other, mostly in an attempt to catch his identity. His first thought is that it's someone heading back from a trial; maybe they decided to take a rest and assumed Jake was a killer? That wasn't  _ that _ far-fetched, so maybe that was the case? 

When he catches the other, he flinches away and makes an annoyed growl. "Come on, I stopped!" 

Even though he's still recovering from the sudden blast of light, Jake tries to focus on the face of the other. His eyes are spotty with dark circles and he has to squint to be able to look at the light, but he does it even so. The man was tall; a good ways taller than him but not by  _ that _ much. He has shaggy black hair, tan skin and a green jacket. He's covered in a thick layer of what looked like blood but was probably mixed with dirt as well. The most striking feature was the fact that he seemed oddly familiar but distant and unrecognizable.

This man wasn't from their camp; he had never seen him before in his life. That left two reasonable options: killer, or a new lost soul for their little bunch of misfits.

"Who are you?" Jake calls somewhat defensively. He's wary, and the fact he was covered in blood didn't help. Probably just got back from his first trial, the sick bastard. 

"Ugh, seriously, fuck off with the light now. I'm not a killer."

The man seems oddly calm but mostly annoyed. He certainly didn't sound like a killer, and he  _ was _ carrying a flashlight, something he had never seen a killer do...but that meant nothing. Better safe than sorry.

"Do you know where you are?"

"Yeah, absolutely buttfuck nowhere - If you don't fuck off with the flashlight…!"

Jake points it away from the man but keeps his distance. Eyes feeling a tad better now, he's able to really take in the appearance of the other; while it was true he was certainly masked in blood and mud, he also seemed young. Other than those marks his skin seemed clear of everything, no scars, no pimples, nothing. There are heavy dark bags under his eyes and Jake could only assume any aging he had that's where his wrinkles went. While he certainly seemed young there is an older aura about him that he simply couldn't explain. He seemed calm, like he knew the area and had been there for quite some time. It comes back to memory that Claudette and the others had found journals in the woods before, could this be the author of one of them?

"Who're you?"

Jake blinks. He supposed he was lost in thought, thinking about the possibilities of who this could be. "You first."

"Jake."

Same name? Jake tilts his head but doesn't think anything of it. Jake was a common name, after all.

"I'm Jake, too."

They both simply stare at each other for a few moments. It feels tense to him but he doesn't try to ponder on it. It was clear to him now this poor sucker was probably just as lost as him.

"Did you write a journal or something?"

The other Jake laughs awkwardly. "Uh...no?"

"Uh, okay...so, you're what? You're new here then?"

The other Jake shakes his head. "No. Been here for years. Are  _ you _ new?" 

Jake's eyes widen a bit. Years? That had to be impossible. He wasn't sure how long he had been there but it surely wasn't years, it couldn't be. Whoever this was had to be here long before him, which was a terrifying thought.

"How many years?"

"Eight, roughly. Are you new?" the Jake reiterates, a little irritated at him already.

"No. I've been here for a while. Maybe I should take you back to the campfire…"

"Campfire? You have a campfire?"

"Yeah, it's just- wait, do you?"

"Yeah...is there anyone else with you?"

"Not now, but there's a group back at the camp, so just...I mean, we haven't met anyone who's been here for that long."

The other Jake squints at him. He walks forward a bit, looking around with untrusting eyes, probably looking to see if he was telling the truth about being alone. They're only a few feet apart when he speaks again. "Well, I've been lost for a while now. Are you sure you even can take me back to your camp?"

"I mean, I hope so. You kinda just have to walk till you find it."

He rolls his eyes. "I know. I'm just wondering if you're lost, too."

It was something Jake didn't really want to think about. Being lost in these woods, stuck in what would basically be limbo...a truly terrifying thought. While he enjoyed being alone, he couldn't think about being that so completely, so utterly lone. He didn't feel particularly welcome or wanted at the campfire, that much was true, but still. There was something about the low talking while he drifted to sleep that gave him comfort; something about Kate's guitar and Bill's tall tales of zombies. And, no matter how much someone hated someone, the simple fact was you looked out for each other. Trials brought them together like that. There was a comfort in knowing other people were just as lost, just as helpless - Jake would probably die before he admitted it, but it didn't change the fact it was true.

"Come on," Jake orders, taking a step in the direction that he had been coming from. "Let's go."

The other takes a final glance around before nodding silently, walking to follow.

They walk in silence for a long while. Jake wasn't entirely sure how long, maybe it was in fact not long at all. It was, after all, hard to focus when you're being stared at the whole time. It was simply unnerving even though the man didn't  _ seem _ particularly interested in killing him, more disgusted than anything, in fact.

"Can you  _ please _ stop staring at me?"

"You're wearing my jacket."

Jake looks down at his jacket and raises a brow. He doesn't understand what he means until he looks at the others' jacket; had he simply not noticed before? Even though it was covered in dried blood, it was easy to tell they were the same. It clicked in his head and he was surprised he hadn't noticed that before. A shiver runs down his spine as he stops walking, taking another moment to make sure they were, indeed, the same. 

No doubt about it.

"What's...what's your last name?"

Something is creeping into Jake's head. A thought so impossible, so absolutely out there even for this world's standards. When he looks up, though, into the eyes of the other, an ungodly dread sends waves of terror through his feet and up his entire body. That face seemed familiar before, but now, there was no doubt. Those eyes told the entire story, and it seemed like the other Jake had the same realization.

"No fucking  _ way." _

The taller Jake seems a bit panicked and reiterates his question. "Your last name! What is it!"

" _ Park _ !"

They stand in frozen silence. Both are terrified but maybe Jake more than the other - well, the younger Jake, it seemed. 

"I'm Jake Park, too," the taller man says with an uneasily calm voice. "This...this isn't the weirdest thing to happen to me. Us?"

There is another moment of hesitation, the other Jake untensing visibly. His shoulders relaxed and he sighs, running a gloved hand through his hair.

"Yeah. Yeah, you're a freak for sure." Jake turns to leave; he had seen enough. There was no way in absolute hell that this was  _ him. _ No fucking way. Not only did it not make sense at all, it was impossible. Whoever this weirdo was, he could go right the hell back to sleep and wake up on the right side of the bed.

"Wait" the other Jake jumps forward, putting a hand on his shoulder. Jake immediately shakes it off him, face contorted into a disgusted frown. "Listen, fuck off! I'm going home."

"James! James Park. He majored in law, remember? We wanted to go to college together? Didn't work out, cause...well, yeah."

Jake stops in his tracks but doesn't turn around. The other Jake takes it as a hint and continues. "Uh... remember when Mom and Dad fought and she told us to call nine one one? We hid under the piano?"

He snaps around, eyes open wide as if he had seen a ghost. Hell, as far as he knew, he was.  _ Nobody _ knew about any of that, absolutely fucking nobody.

"How did...how the fuck did you-"

"I told you, this isn't the weirdest thing to happen to me."

Jake feels as if he had been thrust into another world. The unkillable psychos, the monster in the sky, even the fucking fact none of them could die he could cope with. Here, all of that made sense and worked in a fashion that was never new, never changing. It was routine.

This was  _ not _ routine. This was beyond the cthulhu-esque weirdness of this world. But even as such, he needed more proof - he prayed this man would fuck up and expose himself as phony, some weirdo who stalked him and heard him talk in his sleep or something.

"What was mom's name, then?"

"Janice."

"Dad?"

"Jim."

"Brother?"

"Answered, but James."

Okay, okay. Maybe that was too easy. He had to get more creative. If this man really was him, then he would know the  _ real _ shit.

"Favorite color?"

"Pink."

"Wrong, it's green! See? You aren't really me."

"You know our favorite color changes every goddamn day."

"Ugh." It was true, too. "Favorite Placebo song?"

"The one with David Bowie. Fuck, hold on…'without you'?"

"'Without you I'm nothing'."

"Close enough."

Jake stood there, hand to chin, trying to think of something to ask, something to really make sure this dude wasn't lying. He had to ask something embarrassing, _really_ embarrassing.

"Why did I never let anyone into my closet?"

The other Jake laughs. "The fuckin uh, the fuckin pink unicorn vibrator. We never hid it cause we just wanted it within reach." 

_ No. Fucking. Way.  _ There was no way on Heaven or Earth that anybody knew that at all. 

"I told you, I'm you, just...from the future, I guess? I mean, I'm taller, and you look kinda soft. Like I said, definitely not the weirdest-"

"Yes, you keep saying that! Then what's the weirdest?"

"Hah, story for another time, dude."

Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable. 

"Listen...this…this is like, a hallucination, right?"

The other Jake pinches himself and shakes his head. "That would seem logical, but nah. I'm real. If anything, you're  _ my  _ hallucination."

Jake can't help but scoff. Since when had his life gotten so weird that hallucinating was the more sane answer? He shakes his head and paces back and forth, hands tied up in his hair. "Fuuuuck" he mumbles, distressed and exhausted, not ready or willing to deal with this crisis. He wanted to go back to the campfire and curl up and go the fuck to sleep, not this. There was always a fucking  _ this _ .

"Well, I guess we should just walk then, right? Maybe we'll reach your campfire, or mine."

"No" Jake blurts, the implications of doubles coming to his mind. "We can't let anyone see you."

"What? Why?"

"Because shit like this doesn't happen around here - uh, to us. I just don't want everyone freaking out."

"Oh, come on. I'm sure Claudette could find a way to get me back to my own time."

"No!" Jake stops pacing and turns to face his older counterpart. "Absolutely not. You're just going to have to find a way back yourself."

The older laughs, clearly a bit uncomfortable. "You're being way weird about this. I don't see the issue."

" _ I'm  _ being weird?"

"This whole situation is weird. But-"

"If you say this isn't the weirdest thing to happen to you again, I'll personally kill you."

He laughs and rolls his eyes. "Yeah what are you gonna do. You're like five feet tall."

"You ain't that much taller! We're the  _ same person! _ "

"Yeah, but I guess we went through a late growth spurt, cause you look tiny as fuck. How old are you, again?"

Jake hadn't really thought about that. Keeping track of time was difficult enough without day and night cycles, bit even harder in a world where time felt irrelevant. "I don't know," he responds honestly. "I was twenty when I got here."

"Okay, okay, you're twenty then."

"How do  _ you _ know?"

"Cause I'm twenty eight."

Twenty eight! A disgustingly high number. Even though there was no way around it, this was surely him (or a version?), he refused to believe he would be trapped here for eight more years.

"Wait a second, how do you know if I don't?"

"Oh, we figure it out. It's a whole thing."

"Okay…" he's really not sure what to say; he's not sure there's a right response. This was seriously freaky weird, and if he was being honest, a little terrifying for a whole bunch of reasons. First and foremost, he hated knowing one of himself existed, but two? He felt oddly scared that someone would bump into his other self. He couldn't control it; they would see him and hear him talk and he couldn't stop it even if he tried. It was a weird feeling, but it was one that persisted nonetheless. 

"So."

"So."

They both stand in an awkward silence. Neither is entirely sure where to go from there. All Jake knows is he's feeling a bit sick.

"Can't we just go back to your campfire and I'll stay in our spot?"

He was going to protest, but he thought about it. It was a general rule you respected boundaries (mostly for the fact everyone was either fucking or sleeping twenty four seven), and besides, his little spot behind the clearing was well away from everyone else's...nobody was bound to hear, even if they talked. Hell, it was better than any alternatives, of which there were few.

Jake sighs and nods. "I mean, I guess so. There's really no other option."

"Yeah, if we can even make it back to your camp."

"Don't say that. We will, alright? Besides, I clearly don't get lost until I'm twenty eight."

"Fair."

With nothing better to do, they start to walk back in the direction they we're headed in. The dread of being unable to make it home slithers it's way into Jake's stomach and refuses to leave. He seriously wished that he hadn't said that, even if it was a possibility. Since he was oh-so clearly  _ him _ he should know that he has anxiety.

They walk in silence for a long time. Minutes, hours, days, who knew. Time was a memory and didn't matter to Jake, though he couldn't lie about being curious about how the other knew his exact age. 

But he would ease into that.

"So. The weirdest thing to happen to you."

"Right." He takes a breath and sighs, and Jake looks back to catch him smiling. "So, you know Dwight, right?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah. So, Dwight and me we're- you know you're gay, right?"

Jake raises a brow and looks back again. 

"Okay, okay. So, we we're-"

" _ Wait.  _ You and  _ Dwight?" _

"Me and Dwight."

Jake huffs a 'wow' sarcastically. Him and fucking Dwight, what a nightmare.

"We established we're the same person. If I like him, you do too."

"Keep telling yourself that."  _ God he was right. He was absolutely right and it was terrifying to know someone other than himself - rather, this self - knew that. _

"So, me and Dwight. We're uh, we're in a trial with tall boy. Everyone else is dead and we're kind of just over it you know? No gens are done and Ruin kept fucking us up, so we were just like, whatever. We go into a locker and decide to...you know, do it before we die? So, we're fucking in the locker-"

"Jesus fucking Christ."

"-and like, we suddenly hear heavy ass breathing and Dwight goes 'Jake, I can't believe we're going to die with our dicks out', and I scream, 'open the door Myers, you know you want to see.' it was just a stupid joke, he clearly knew where we were. So Dwight is freaking out and I'm just trying to fucking nut before I get stabbed, and what do you know he opens the door and he's got a fucking boner."

Wow, Jake really regretted asking this and if didn't seem like he was joking.

"Basically he watches us fuck, like, touching himself through his dumbass jumpsuit. We nut, he nuts, and we think we might make it out before he pulls us out and kills us with our pants still down."

God please have that be the end of the story.

Jake makes an annoyed 'ugh' noise. "That's gross."

With a laugh the older Jake mutters a "it's  _ your _ future."

"Oh  _ hell _ no. You must be from some weird ass alternative universe, like  _ House of Leaves _ ."

"Like I always say, 'fuck you, fuck this, fuck me'."

Jake stifles a snort. "For real, though. You, like,  _ fucked _ Dwight?"

"It might be the wrong decision, but fuck it, it's mine."

"Okay, you couldn't remember 'Without You I'm Nothing' but you can remember  _ House of  _ Leaves quotes?"

"Yeah, yeah. To answer your question, though, yes, I've fucked Dwight. Many times."

Jake shivers at the thought. He was embarrassed about the idea of sex. A prude, not really (at least he tried to convince himself he wasn't), but more the idea that he himself would fuck was terrifying and uncomfortable. 

"I just...why  _ him _ ?"

The older Jake shrugs even though the other doesn’t catch it. “I mean, it’s not like there’s a lot of options. Besides, he kind of is our type.”

Jake scoffs again. “Yeah, maybe yours, weirdo.” 

“Do I have to remind you we’re the same person?”

Jake’s sure his face is red. He rolls his eyes and huffs. “Yeah, I’m starting to rethink that.”

Older Jake sighs. He's oddly content and even a little happy by the looks of it. Jake keeps turning around to look at him, half to make sure he's still even there and half because he's amazed the other isn't freaking out. His calmness was the main thing keeping Jake calm, if he was honest.

They walk in silence for a while. It's not awkward or strained like before, but something tingles at Jake's spine. Dread, maybe - definitely something terrible, a looking sense of discomfort, maybe even danger. He never  _ did _ like walking in front of someone, but that wasn't it. This was different, much different. It contorts and twists in the pit of his stomach, something surely wrong, so very wrong. He had felt sick for a while now, but it was almost if his calmness was being stripped from his very being.

"Are you okay?" The older man calls. Jake's holding his stomach and he's heaving a bit. He doesn't speak but his breath picks up, his chest tightens and that familiar feeling of disconnect from head to body rakes through him. It had been so long since he had had one - a panic attack - the last time being some time ago, his first trial pitted against the Clown. (He was pretty good at pretending he was fine but Jesus _ Christ _ the Clown was a terrifying beast. There was something about the look in his eyes that sent terror into him like no other. Plus, clowns were always a big fear for him as a child). He knew instantly what it was but even then it doesn't stop it.

"Just- just a panic attack, I'm okay." He stops walking to focus on breathing. He's heaving in and out, hyperventilating and taking thick deep inhales of fog, arms holding his knees as he stands hunched over. He closes his eyes and tries to concentrate; what caused this was the wrong answer. Ever since his first there was no direct cause in that moment. Sometimes it was pent up feelings, sometimes it was unconscious remembering of unpleasant memories, other times it was just the fact that he had, could and will die. This world was not easy, especially not to those with pre-existing conditions like this; it was just an extra kick in the face when it happened around others.

"It's alright, you're alright." The older man steps in front of him and puts a hand on his neck. Jake goes instantly to thwart it away, but the other mutters a 'hold on'. Jake thinks for a moment, likely out of the anxiety that came from panic attacks, that he was going to kill him. Of course, that wasn't the case. Instead, the other Jake rests his hand just underneath his jaw on the right side, a thumb rubbing softly underneath his ear and cheekbone. The other hand wraps it's way under Jake's left arm, pulling into something of a hug. 

Jake was a person who hated physical touch and his first instinct is to push him away, but something about this made him almost instantly calm down. He's still gasping for air that his body thinks isn't reaching his lungs, but it's not as hard. His heart still pounds like hooves on concrete, but it's slowing. His hands still shake like paper in the wind, but the warmth of his older self keeps him steady. The hands don't feel invasive, but rather comforting, safe, like at any moment he  _ couldn't  _ be killed by some psycho teen or massive Russian. Jake is hesitant and terrified but he leans into it, pressing himself against the others' bloodied chest. Surprisingly it doesn't smell or even feel like blood or mud, something surely unnatural as it likely wouldn't work that way in real world, but it didn't matter. What mattered was he felt safe in that moment, impenetrable and utterly  _ okay _ for the first time in a long, long time. Any thoughts of this other self being evil like in those dumb movies faded; only another him could know the exact right way to comfort him, because hell, even he himself didn't know how.

Or maybe he did, and he just didn't want to admit physical touch was a thing he lacked and utterly, utterly craved. Because until this moment, he convinced himself he didn't like it, but the truth was quite the opposite, and  _ that's _ what hurt.

Fuck. It hadn't even been an hour (probably) and he was already on the verge of goddamn tears.

He pulls away from the other. He's breathing mostly normally now, his heart slower but not entirely normal just yet but the crux was behind them. If he wasn't exhausted before (he was), he was surely exhausted now. Because, frankly, between wandering in the woods after a trial, meeting another version of himself and having a mini-breakdown with said self, he was  _ so _ over it.

"Listen. Can we just stop? Keep walking tomorrow? I'm really tired-"

"Yeah, yeah no worries. I'll make a fire."

Jake has questions but he doesn't bother. He's just tired and sleep seems like a really good idea right now. Maybe he would go to bed and wake up back at the camp and this would all be a really weird dream.

Well, one could hope.

Jake takes a seat underneath a particularly big tree. The other Jake is collecting sticks and brush, something that would be ultimately fruitless. You couldn't  _ make _ fire here, they had tried. It was like the fire was a static prop and couldn't be recreated or spread. You know, for the seemingly older, wiser version, he sure was a dumba-

A tiny spark sets the pile of wood and leaves aflame. Should he had been drinking, he surely would have spit it out. 

"H...how?!"

"Luck, mostly."

Dumb answer but something he would ask further into another time. His brain was shutting off and he could damn well feel it. His wits end was...let's see here...five years ago? 

He rolls his eyes and leans farther down the tree. As improbable as it was that this fire was created, Jake found himself glad it was. It wasn't that big and certainly not that warm but it was  _ something _ at the very least. He rubs his gloved hands together and stretches his legs out before bringing his knees to his chest. It was the most comfortable way to rest; body all neatly packed, a smaller target even though it didn't matter. It was like sleeping with a blanket on - even though it didn't protect you, hell, something about it made you feel safe, and this was that same ideal, at least for him.

"Do you want my jacket?"

Jake shakes his head. The other sits directly across from him, distorted by the weak fire's glow. He sits with his legs crossed, eyes staring up at the sky now, hands behind his head to act as a pillow against the hard tree. He seemed so...okay, so content. Did something along the line change? Since when did he become so uninhibited by mental anguish?

Or since when did he get so damn good at hiding it?

Even though he's exhausted beyond measure, he still has so many questions running like race cars though his head. He wants to ask, to prod and question and get details of what to do just about everything in general, but he can't think of the right way to phrase it. 'How do I get good at sex' seems gross and wrong but something this Jake would surely know. He wants to know who his first kiss is, who else he's fucked besides Dwight (if any), or if he's even telling the truth about that. He wants to know every miniscule detail, every piece of childish information he could get his hands on and God damn it was eating him up despite his yearning for sleep.

"I suspect you have questions."

Jake nearly doesn't process the words but the other clarifies. "Since you've been staring."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to."

"It's fine. I know this is weird."

"Weird is...a bit of an understatement."

He chuckles. "Yeah, valid. Just trying not to think about it, honestly."

"Why not? This is pretty incredible."

There is hesitation in the older Jake's voice. He sighs and closes his eyes. "I know, it's even a little exciting, but I just. I just kind of want to go back to  _ my _ campfire. I miss everyone."

"Ugh, I wouldn't" Jake scoffs bitterly. "They're all annoying."

"Yeah, yeah, the whole 'unloving asshole' thing doesn't last forever. 'Sides, we all get closer eventually."

"Yeah? Like with who?"

"A lot of people. First of all, Dwight, but you already know that."

"Yeah, your weird obsession with him is crystal clear."

The older Jake rolls his eyes but continues. "I mean, Claudette is like, my best friend. We have 'girls night' all the time."

"We're men."

"The toxic masculinity bullshit doesn't last long, either, trust me."

"It's not toxic, dumbass. Just saying I'm not a girl."

"Well, we sure as hell beg like one."

' _ Hey God, it's me, Jake. You can kill me anytime now. _ ' The mental images that came to mind we're perverted and foul. It's not the first time he's imagined himself on the ground begging for Dwight or David or God just _ anybody _ at that point, but it's the first time he's truly disgusted about it.

"Don't say that, weirdo!"

The other Jake is laughing like an idiot, clearly enjoying the look of shock and fluster on his face. Jake runs a hand through his hair and tries to think of anything else, anything at all, but trying to get his mind off it only makes him think of it even more. And, what's worse, he could feel himself hardening.

God,  _ no. _ This was the absolute worst place to get turned on. He could only imagine the ridicule from the other he would receive - and the fact that they were the same didn't click in his head at that point, he just knew that nobody could ever know he felt sexual impulse.  _ Ever _ . Not even himself.

"God, I don't remember being so…" He's still laughing and smiling and Jake can't help but stare. "...like that."

"I'm not like  _ anything _ . I'm just- you know, not into what you're into!"

There's a pause. Jake is trying desperately to rid himself of thoughts that are better suited for his spot back at the camp alone, or better yet, for  _ never ever anytime ever _ . But it's like his old therapist said - intrusive thoughts can be troublesome. They don't necessarily leave quickly or at all. What mattered was if you acted on them, right? And he would never act on them.

Probably.

The other is still smiling, eyes glued on Jake.

"Are you a top or a bottom?"

Was there no respite from this sexual questionnaire Hell? Jake lets out a heavy sigh.

"I mean, top."

Another hearty laugh escapes the older Jake's mouth. He slaps a hand over his mouth to stifle the snorts that came from him but it was no use. "I'm sorry" he tries to speak through noises. "I'm sorry, oh my God, I'm crying."

"Jesus - you're really an asshole you know that? Just because you're bottom bitch slut doesn't mean I have to be. We're probably not even though same fuckin...you know, version or something…!"

He's calming down now. He wipes the side of his eyes with his jacket (unsanitary if you asked Jake), and then proceeds to stand to his feet and make his way around the fire. He plops down on the ground next to the other, a little much too close for his liking, head leaned in.

"Well, kiss me then."

" _ What?" _

"If you know what you're doing, Mr. Top, kiss me."

Jake looked at him like he was on crack.  _ Kiss _ him? So many things were wrong about this. First and foremost, he didn't know how to; he never had. Second of all, kissing...himself? Was that...wrong? Wasn't it incest or something? Would it even matter?

"Hell no! That's weird!" He snarls and shakes his head. The other Jake shrugs. "Told ya."

"Just because I won't kiss you doesn't mean I'm a bottom."

"Well, if you don't even know how to kiss, how do you figure you'll be able to top?"

Be it actually a good point or his tired brain's exhaustion, it made sense to him. What was he going to do, kiss Dwight without knowing how and somehow dominate in that aspect? Though, that brought up another question - had Dwight even kissed before, either? And why the hell was he thinking about it as if it will happen?

"I guess…" is all he mutters. He doesn't know how to properly respond, all he knows in that moment is that he's feeling way too warm for comfort. The older man puts a hand on Jake's cheek and gently nudges for his head to meet his gaze. Jake doesn't fight it, his body stiff in anticipation and just a little anxiety, almost positive he was blushing like the dumb virgin he was.

The older man moves agonizing slowly. He leans forward and barely brushes their lips together, looking for any further denial or hint that Jake didn't truly want this. And God he's heating up like coals, insides in a knot and burning like a bonfire. It  _ shouldn _ 't feel weird, this was just him, two sides of the same coin, maybe even same soul. He didn't know but what he was coming to know was that he shouldn't be scared, or at the very least, he's trying to convince himself to not be.

Their lips are pushed together and Jake nearly faints. He's breathless, holding air in his lungs, not daring to move even a muscle. The other Jake's lips are soft and warm and gentle, oh so gentle, a sensation that is surprising but not unwelcome. His eyes are shut and he's praying the others are too, afraid of his reaction when he realizes Jake has no clue what he's doing.

In an instant their lips break apart. Jake stays still but the other breaks away, hand still holding his neck and jaw comfortingly. It's only after a few seconds when Jake dares to open his eyes

"Are you okay?"

Jake nods slowly. Usually tough and sure, or at the very least somewhat confident in his own abilities, he's left an unsure and shaky shell. He was sure of only two things now; that the other was  _ definitely _ Jake Park, and that there was something seriously wrong with him for thinking of himself in such a lewd way in which his mind was doing now.

"Well, now you had your first kiss. Use it on Dwight, okay?" He smiles and gives Jake a pat on the head before returning to his original form against the tree opposite of him, eyes glued back onto the empty night sky. Jake is still curled against the tree, visible tent in his jeans, way out of his element and suddenly not tired at all. He closes his eyes and laws his head against his arms and tries to find sleep.

Half of him hoped he'd wake up alone tomorrow, the other half prayed he didn't. Either way, something had gone seriously wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *READ BEFORE READING*
> 
> This chapter is unfinished. I last wrote this in mid July and since then I have lost passion and time for writing. This *will* be finished at some point, but not soon enough to warrant keeping this in my drafts any longer. I will update this visibly when this chapter has been finished; I might hurry up with it if there's demand but I sincerely don't think that will happen. You're free to finish this if you like as long as a link to the original is stated. 
> 
> Here's to another few months of waiting for a pay off that isn't worth it.

Jake is conscious before he opens his eyes. He comes to with a shiver, the air cold enough to wake him up even though it was true he was a light sleeper. (This world did that to you - no, none of them had been attacked in camp, but the stress and anxiety lingered anyway.) He keeps his eyes closed and begins to fire up his mind, only flexing his hand to make sure he wasn’t in sleep paralysis. He had nightmares big time back home, along with the paralysis as well, and here it was only just that much more terrifying. At the very least, he had the prior experience and knew how to handle it.

His still-tired mind slowly begins to recall everything, the temperature helping to wake him up. Memories of the past day resurfaced, along with where he was, what had happened. At first it felt like nothing more than a distant dream, a little too realistic to be sure, but likely just vivid, right? He had to deal with a lot of strange things in this place, but meeting what could only be called a clone of yourself was pretty high on the list of ‘batshit crazy’. Even in a place as hellish and weird as this, there was no way that could be true.

He figures there’s only one way to find out - open his eyes. If he was at the campfire, he would call it a dream and go on with his miserable life. If not, well, he would deal with it then. His eyes are glued shut, mostly out of the fear his gut feeling was right and he was, in fact, not dreaming at all. It wasn’t even that there was another one of him, a  _ second  _ Jake Park, but everything else; the implications, the fucking implications. He had kissed himself last night. He had his first kiss with the older version of himself, or at least he prayed he didn’t. Not even that, but the thoughts that ran through his head...narcissistic was the only word he could really think of. Jake hated himself, how he looked, how he talked, how he ran and how he walked, which was why he preferred to be alone, but this other him was...different. He must have come from the universe in which he turned out pretty hot, because even now Jake can’t recognize himself in him aside from the clothes and the eyes. 

And he was positive - one hundred and ten percent - imagining yourself fucking...well,  _ yourself _ , probably wasn’t the sign of a mentally stable person, considering it was also fucking possible to do so.

He cringes and groans a little in frustration. Hell, this was all so fucked up, but still, he needed confirmation. Was this real?

Jake reluctantly opens his eyes. In front of him is a pile of twigs and small logs, no fire like he had remembered. Hell, it looked like there wasn't even a fire to begin with. His eyes dart around his surroundings and even though everything looked the same most of the time this was  _ definitely _ familiar. It wasn't the campfire, so that meant one thing and one thing only: they weren't dreams at all. That, or he had drank out of David’s alcohol stash and he was seriously foggy on what had happened last night, and was also hallucinating a body next to a tree.

In theory what had probably happened scared him, well, rather it should have. He's surprised when he doesn't feel much different than before; a little unnerved and overall disgusted but that was normal if he was being honest. His eyes dart to the other Jake who's still there, lying on the ground, probably sleeping. He sighs and stretches his legs and arms, letting out a moan as he does so. He cracks his sore neck and proceeds to stand to his feet, yawning tiredly even though he's sure he's slept a decent amount of time. 

He looks towards the other's spot where he sleeps, head using two arms as a pillow, facing the sky. His mouth is left open ajar slightly, soft breaths escaping his lips as he slumbers peacefully. Jake looks on, simply existing for a moment, watching him sleep and wondering if it would be wrong to wake him up. He just looked so damn peaceful; no fighting, no running from death, no facing the probability he wouldn't make it back to his Dwight. Jake thinks about it genuinely for a moment, how it would feel to be separated from the others (which he prayed wasn't happening to himself) - it would be a terrible loneliness. He wasn't particularly close with any of them  _ now _ , but their presence was enough. At the very least, he lived with the knowledge he wasn't alone in this world. To be taken from that? From ones only company, only friends, only _ lover _ , thrown into the dark abyss with nothing but yourself to keep you afloat in the face of death?

There couldn't be anything worse than that.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer" a disgruntled, raspy voice mutters. Jake blinks and shakes his head a bit, snapping out of his thoughts.

"Sorry."

"How long have you been awake?" He sits up and stretches his arms and legs, just as Jake had done.

"Uh, just a few minutes, I think. Didn't mean to wake you."

"Nah, it's fine, you didn't. Oh, the fire went out."

"Yeah - I'm still not sure how you even got it lit in the first place."

The older Jake stands to his feet, stretching his legs against the tree behind him. "What can I say, I'm a lucky guy."

Jake snickers. "You sound like Ace."

"Well, not  _ that _ lucky."

Jake feels different, hot. Before he felt on even playing ground, but now he felt small. Something had changed for sure. He doesn't see him as Jake Park, not that he ever really did, but rather another person entirely. The thought of them being the same hadn't left his mind entirely and, maybe it was to make his impulses less weird, he had begun to think of the other as a different person. Because as Jake stretches against the tree, lifting his leg high and pressing close, all he can think about is pinning him there and making him  _ beg _ . Thoughts like this had begun last night as he tried to sleep; at first it started as the thought of this Jake being fucked ruthlessly by Dwight, but it had turned into just  _ him.  _ Jake wanted to be Dwight in those senerios, fucking him while Myers watched, making him beg like a girl. It was all he could think about until he passed into an uneasy sleep. 

Something had, as he thought, gone  _ seriously  _ wrong. This was beyond fucked up and he goddamn knew it, but that didn't mean his mind would shut up about it. 

"Okay, for real, what's with staring with me? Still haven’t gotten past the whole ‘double’ shit?”


End file.
